The kindly search for growth, the gracious de-
sire to exist of the flowers, my near ecstasy at existing
among them
The privilege to witness my existence-you too
must seek the sun…

My books piled up before me for my use
waiting in space where I placed them, they
haven’t disappeared, time’s left its remnants and qual-
ities for me to use–my words piled up, my texts, my
manuscripts, my loves.

I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in
the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying.
Saw the red blossoms in the night light, sun’s
gone, they had all grown, in a moment, and were wait-
ing stopped in time for the day sun to come and give
them…

Flowers which as in a dream at sunset I watered
faithfully not knowing how much I loved them.
I am so lonely in my glory–except they too out
there–I looked up–those red bush blossoms beckon-
ing and peering in the window waiting in the blind love,
their leaves too have hope and are upturned top flat
to the sky to receive–all creation open to receive–the
flat earth itself.